


lavender

by NadiasGhost



Series: Jaskier/Geralt nonsense [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, absolutely nobody:... me: there was only one bed???, jaskier is but a human and does not have infinite energy for the road lads, jaskier is tired and requires snuggles, soft content, talking about feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:00:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24695659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NadiasGhost/pseuds/NadiasGhost
Summary: “What happened? I tripped,” Jaskier snapped back, “I know you might not experience such embarrassing clumsiness, but it happens to some of us who are human!”Oh.OH.Geralt let himself look at the bard, really look, even if it seemed to be making Jaskier slightly uncomfortable. The bard looked exhausted.“There’s a town a mile southeast, just out of the edge of this woods,” Geralt finally said.“Good for them,” Jaskier deadpanned, not stepping away from the staring competition they seemed to be having. “We’ll rest there tonight,” Geralt concluded.“Alright,” Jaskier replied casually, continuing to stare back at him.“Get on the horse, Jaskier,” Geralt said.“What? No, why?”“Get on the horse.”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt/Jaskier
Series: Jaskier/Geralt nonsense [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1785415
Comments: 11
Kudos: 567





	lavender

**Author's Note:**

> I started this at 4am when I was sad and there's no real point but its soft so here you go 
> 
> ***
> 
> Currently in love with the Witcher series and I want to write more for it soon

Jaskier was quiet. 

That was…. Not good. 

Geralt turned in the saddle, looking down at his traveling companion. Nothing seemed too out of place, except for Jaskier tripping over precisely every possible tree root, but that was fairly normal for dusk, when it was harder for Jaskier and Roach to see where to place their feet. 

Usually Jaskier would be complaining. 

That was what was out of place. 

“What’s wrong?” Geralt asked gruffly. 

“What’s wrong?” Jaskier echoed indignantly, “for once I haven’t said anything, and he asks me what’s wrong.” 

“That’s precisely why I’m asking you what’s wrong,” Geralt replied quickly. He stopped Roach and peered down at Jaskier who all but bumped into his leg. “We stopping?” He asked, peering up. 

“No, not safe here,” Geralt said. Jaskier nodded, avoiding the Witcher’s eyes in favour of looking farther down the path. “I mean it, Jaskier,” Geralt pressed uncharacteristically, “what is it?” 

Jaskier snapped back at him that it was nothing. He sighed and picked up the reins again. 

Two minutes further down the path Geralt heard a thud and a muffled curse. He turned quickly, sliding off Roach, and ran the few steps back to the bard. “What happened?” Geralt demanded, helping him up off the ground. 

“What happened? I tripped,” Jaskier snapped back, “I know you might not experience such embarrassing clumsiness, but it happens to some of us who are human!”

Oh. 

OH. 

Geralt let himself look at the bard, really look, even if it seemed to be making Jaskier slightly uncomfortable. The bard looked exhausted. 

“There’s a town a mile southeast, just out of the edge of this woods,” Geralt finally said. 

“Good for them,” Jaskier deadpanned, not stepping away from the staring competition they seemed to be having. “We’ll rest there tonight,” Geralt concluded. 

“Alright,” Jaskier replied casually, continuing to stare back at him. 

“Get on the horse, Jaskier,” Geralt said. 

“What? No, why?”

“Get on the horse.”

“No, I’m not making you walk, you’ll be mad at me for it later,” Jaskier continued to argue. 

“I wouldn’t offer you something if I was going to be mad at you for taking it later,” Geralt ground out, pinching the bridge of his nose, “get on the horse.”

Jaskier said nothing, only stared at him through frustrated, tired eyes. 

Geralt looped an arm around his waist and hoisted him up onto Roach, much to the Bard’s squeaking, then got on himself. “Roach’ll rest after this, she won’t mind,” Geralt assured, bracketing his arms around the bard to take hold of the reins. 

They took the next fork in the path to go southeast, and by the time they trotted into town, night had fully fallen, and Geralt had an arm around Jaskier’s waist to keep him upright. 

Geralt helped the yawning bard down, and paid the man at the inn on the edge of town to board Roach for the night. The only thing Jaskier was carrying was his lute, as Geralt had the backpack with both of their possessions, but Geralt took the lute from Jaskier and opened the door for him with the other hand. 

Usually it’s Jaskier who sweet talks them into a cheaper room, but he’s practically asleep on the desk, so Geralt asks the lady working there the price. 

She tells him, and it’s steeper than it should be for an inn in the middle of nowhere, and there’s only one room available. He tells her that’s fine (they usually house in the same room anyways when they sleep in a real building, otherwise how is Geralt supposed to make sure his bard is safe?). Geralt asks for a bath as well, and pays. 

The bath is being drawn when he and Jaskier make it upstairs, and Jaskier collapses onto the bed with a happy hum. Geralt says nothing about how dirty he’s making the sheets, just sets their bag and the lute down carefully, and thanks the man that brought up the bathwater. 

Geralt efficiently washed with a cloth and some of the hot bathwater, setting his armor against the wall. He changes into pants more suited for sleep, and heads back to the room where Jaskier is still lying facedown on the bed. 

The bed. 

THE bed. 

Usually these places come with two. 

Geralt groans internally when he realizes that’s what the lady at the front desk was trying to tell him, but stops himself from actually making a noise. 

Geralt has a thought, and he changes trajectory from towards the bard to towards their bags, searching around for…. There. The last sachet of lavender, from a pile that Jaskier insisted they carry around. Jaskier liked to bath with them, when they actually spent the night somewhere with a bath. 

Geralt felt the pang of guilt sweep through him as it had when he’d realized how tired Jaskier had looked. He should’ve been paying better attention to just how many days they’d spent on the road. He didn’t feel tired, but humans tired faster than Witchers, and he felt stupid for overlooking that. 

He tossed the sachet of lavender roughly at the Bard, and it bounced and landed on the sheets next to him. 

“Bath time,” Geralt said as explanation, motioning for him to get up. Jaskier cracked an eye open. There was more pink in his complexion now that they were inside where it was warm, and he’d had a minute to rest. 

“I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you out of your armor in a week,” Jaskier said, “was there a mountain of dirt on the floor after you took off your chestplate, or just a large hill?”

“Hilarious,” Geralt replied dryly. 

Jaskier stood, switching places with the Witcher and heading for the bathing room, and Geralt took the opportunity to shake out the blankets of the dirt Jaskier had so nicely given to them. Finished, he rolled out a bedroll on the floor, between the door and the bed, and sat down. 

“No, no no no no,” came Jaskier’s voice a few minutes later. Geralt looked up and whatever else the bard was saying was lost on him for a moment. Jaskier was wearing one of Geralt’s long sleeve shirts, hanging low off of one shoulder, and falling above his knees. 

“My shirt,” Geralt managed. 

“Yes, none of mine are clean,” Jaskier replied without pause. Geralt smiled, just a little. His stupidly assertive and talkative bard seemed to be making a comeback with the help of a little rest and a bath. That was good. 

“Geralt?” Jaskier prompted. 

“Hmm?” Geralt replied. 

“I said: you can’t pay for the room and not sleep on the bed,” Jaskier replied, crossing his arms. A drop of water dripped from his hair onto the dark shirt. 

The room’s not for my comfort, dumbass. Geralt thought, instead, he said, “I don’t mind the floor.”

“Get in the bed,” Jaskier insisted. Geralt sighed, externally this time. He knew that look. Jaskier would not be letting this go. He climbed off of his perfectly comfortable sleeping roll and up onto the bed. Jaskier plopped down beside him, seeming satisfied with his good work, and then blew out the light and all but burrowed under the white blankets, sighing happily. 

The only light left in the room were the cool silver rays of moonlight, shining in through the window and pooling on the blanket, catching on strands of Jaskier’s hair. 

“I’m sorry,” Geralt said, after a moment’s pause. 

Jaskier pulled down the blanket and peeked up at the Witcher, eyebrow up in confusion. “For what?”

“I should have realized how exhausted you were,” Geralt clarified. He was not the best at apologies by any means, but at least he could clarify what it was that he was wishing to apologize for, “I don’t feel tired as quickly as you, and I don’t need as much sleep, but I should have realized sooner that this many nights on the road would be too hard on you.”

“Oh,” Jaskier said in a quiet voice, “okay.”

Geralt lay down, attempting to get comfortable. That wasn’t a negative response, so maybe Jaskier would accept his apology. He would just need to find some ways to make it up to the Bard over the next couple of weeks. And make sure he took better care of him. And make sure he didn’t get this exhausted on the road again--

“I understand,” Jaskier said, still in a quiet voice, “should I travel with you to the next major town, or would you like to part ways here?”

“What?” Geralt asked in alarm, rolling on his side to face the bard. Jaskier stared up at the ceiling, his profile silhouetted by the light from the window, “what do you mean?”

“Well, I can’t keep up,” Jaskier replied, looking on the verge of tears but staring resolutely up, “I knew this would happen eventually, I tried to keep up as best I could but…. I understand. You’re a Witcher, you need to travel at Witcher pace, and I’m clearly not capable of matching you. If it’s a burden on your capability to do your job it would be rude for me to demand you accommodate me--”

“That’s quite enough,” Geralt cut in, when he finally found his voice. He didn’t know what he wanted to say, but he knew Jaskier needed to stop that immediately. “That’s not what I was trying to say,” Geralt finally managed, “I was trying to apologize for too long on the road and let you know that from now on I will make sure to take better care.”

Jaskier swallowed, and the sound was loud in the quiet room. “Why?”

That was a little heartbreaking, the Witcher thought. Had he truly done such a bad job at being a traveling companion that Jaskier genuinely thought he didn’t want him around? Sure, they still joked, but the back and forth had gone from harsh to familiar teasing. 

“Because I want you around,” Geralt finally managed gruffly. Jaskier looked up at him like he’d hung the fucking moon AND stars and Geralt felt another rumble of guilt. Clearly he needed to have said this sooner. Was that really so hard? 

“Is it because of my beautiful melodies or my lovely massages,” Jaskier finally quipped. Geralt rolled his eyes, rolling back onto his back to look up at the ceiling. “Ridiculous.”

There was a beat of silence, with only movement being the moon’s rays sliding across the room. 

“Geralt,” Jaskier said, quieter, “thank you.”

Geralt wanted to thank him back, but that seemed too much. He wasn’t quite there yet. Not yet. Instead he rolled back onto his side and held his arm up, looking not quite at Jaskier’s eyes but instead at somewhere just past Jaskier’s left ear (as he knew Jaskier’s replying smile would be too much). 

Jaskier wasted no time latching a hand onto Geralt’s shirtfront, and cuddling into his side, head nuzzling into Geralt’s collar. His damp hair smelled like lavender. 

This talking thing was okay. It was alright. Especially if it was making Geralt confident enough to acquire this closeness. 

“Goodnight Geralt,” Jaskier said after a moment, and Geralt could hear the smile in his voice. 

***

Geralt woke with the sunrise. 

Somehow the bright light of the day never seemed to wake the bard, but, Geralt frowned, considering, he supposed that could be because the bard was perpetually tired. 

Unlike other mornings however, this morning Geralt awoke with his arms full of Jaskier, who was still smelling of lavender, but who was now fully holding his torso with both arms, and drooling slightly on his shirt. 

Geralt smiled looking down at him, and gently untangled himself. Truthfully there was nowhere he’d rather be at that moment than wrapped up in bard, but he wanted to secure them a hot breakfast before the inn downstairs ran out, and he had one other matter to attend to before the two of them could get ready to get back to travelling. 

He placed Jaskier’s arm back down onto the bed, and the bard sleepily snuggled into the blanket left where Geralt had been. 

Fuck. 

Geralt made quick work of the trip downstairs, getting the breakfasts, and asking the man behind the bar what he needed to know. He was in luck, the man told him, there was a place in town, reasonably priced. 

When he returned to the room there was a rustling from the bed. Good, maybe if sunlight couldn’t wake the bard, food could. 

“Jaskier?” That was not a good look on his face. Jaskier was sat up in bed Geralt’s too large shirt falling off one shoulder, eyes wide and bottom lip caught between his teeth. He looked upset like he had last night, when he’d thought Geralt wanted to part ways. 

That wasn’t okay. Geralt set the food on the dresser and stepped further into the room. 

“Jaskier? What’s wrong?”

The bard looked up at him, startled. 

“What are you doing?’ Jaskier asked. 

“Food,” Geralt replied, pointing awkwardly at the lidded dishes. 

“Oh,” Jaskier said, and he brightened, “sorry.”

“You thought I’d left?” Geralt asked, disheartened to think the bard thought he’d do something like that. 

“No!” Jaskier rushed to assure him, swinging his legs off the bed and padding barefoot over to the food, “something sillier.”

“You….” Geralt paused to regard him. After a moment he shrugged. “I don’t know, sillier like what?”

Jaskier laughed, but it was tight sounding. “I thought you might’ve minded me drooling on your shirt.”

“You were worried I was mad because I woke up with you practically on top of me?” Geralt interpreted. The bard winced from where he was lifting the dish lid. 

“Were you?” Jaskier asked. 

“No,” Geralt replied truthfully. He crossed the room to sit on the edge of the bed. Jaskier excitedly retrieved a hot roll from the dish. 

“We’re getting you a horse,” Geralt said, as casually as he could manage. 

Jaskier’s hot roll stopped in its journey to his mouth. “I don’t have money for a horse,” Jaskier replied dismissively, before taking a large bite.  
“I know. I do though,” Geralt replied. 

“No you don’t,” Jaskier scoffed, mouth full. He threw Geralt a roll, and came to sit next to him on the bed. 

“I do,” Geralt said, “I split our coin equally, I promise, but I have a habit of squirreling some of mine away. Old habit. Usually I don't tell anyone I have extra, it’s security, but I don’t mind telling you.”

Jaskier stared at him for a moment, like he’d grown a second head. 

“Me planning in advance that startling to you, bard?” Geralt quipped. 

“No, just you telling me…. Is nice,” Jaskier smiled back. 

“Hm.”

After a moment of Geralt quietly chewing, he elaborated. “There’s a stables that sells on the edge of town, we’ll head there after breakfast.”

Jaskier nodded, smiling back at him.


End file.
